Poor Peter
by Emilee Crumby
Summary: my typical sort of fluff, sick Peter. who doesn't love a needy hero?


I watch Heroes but I'm not a really dedicated fan. There will probably be plot discrepancies. If this is going to bother you, stop reading now.

Peter is sick, on his birthday, while working a double shift. whump whump whump

I own nothing, this is just for entertainment; mine mostly.

********

From behind a thick pane of glass, Emma watched Peter leaning over Karen, the latest patient in his bleeding heart club. She was a teenager brought in after a car accident during last week's snow storm. When Peter found her, her femoral artery had been severed and the last bits of life were draining from it. When she was admitted, the doctors were astounded at her surviving the head-on crash with only a sprained ankle and a couple of broken ribs.

No matter how many times Emma begged him to stop healing, Peter could not resist a patient in trouble. It was pathological, really. Even now, an hour after his shift had ended, the paramedic lingered at his patient's bedside. When he had first related the story to Emma, Peter's face had twisted with guilt at not being able to heal her every ill.

"This power is like an old battery. If I had more time to recharge before finding Karen she probably would have been able to get out of here already."

"Yes but what earlier patients would have suffered?" she had pointed out, helping Peter to a seat.

Every time Peter healed someone he was reduced to a quivering mess of fatigue. Emma knew how much it shamed him to be seen as such. She also knew just the right way to ease him to sitting, or get him to accept a glass of water, without exposing his insecurities.

She pushed open the door to the hospital room and Karen called out to her.

"Hi Emma."

Peter turned around and smiled warmly as his friend came in.

"Hi guys," she said cheerily. Smiling which had recently felt so foreign had started to return with a natural comfort.

"How're you feeling?" she asked Karen. "Almost ready to go home?"

"So ready," groaned Karen. "I hate hospitals. I already caught a cold just being around all these sick people."

As if to demonstrate her point, she coughed roughly into her open palm. Tears sprang to the girl's eyes and she clutched at the bandage around her torso. She swore under her breath.

"Her cracked ribs are still pretty tender," Peter explained to Emma with a pained look. "What do you think doctor? Anything else she can do for this?"

Emma blushed at the address and responded, "Well don't let up on the pain meds when you get home. I think a lot of people do that. Besides that, a strong cough suppressant?"

Karen nodded, coughing again and pushing the back of her head into the pillow as she tensed with pain.

Peter turned towards the girl and away from his friend, resting a hand on her arm. Before Emma could stop him he had closed his eyes, drawn in a breath, and it was done.

"I'm sure you'll feel better soon," she jumped in, trying to distract Karen from Peter's sudden pallor. The girl was not so easily diverted.

"Wow, are you okay Peter?" she asked, her voice sounding clearer than a moment earlier. "I hope you're not catching this cold."

Peter steadied himself and smiled kindly. "Don't worry about me. I never get sick."

A moment later a gaggle of Karen's school friends had swarmed into the room, leaving the adults to escape unnoticed.

"Peter, what the hell?" Emma snarled. She pulled his hand from where it rested on his forehead and glared into his eyes.

Peter forced a smile and tried to appear nonchalant. "What?" he asked. "I've had time to 'recharge.'"

Emma dropped his wrist and shook her head sadly. "I worry about you. You're running yourself ragged. You really are going to get sick if you don't take better care of yourself."

Peter cocked an eyebrow lightheartedly. "As I told Karen, I don't get sick."

********

"Heh.. heh.. heschew!"

"You doing okay, man?" asked Hesam lifting his end of the gurney back into the ambulance.

"Fine," muttered Peter as he lifted.

"I'm just saying 'cause you been sneezing your head off all shift."

"Allergies."

"It's winter."

"…to dust."

"In an ambulance?"

"Leave me alone."

Hesam threw up his hands in resignation. "Fair enough. I'm just trying to be nice." With that, he walked around the front of the bus and scooted in next to the driver, leaving Peter alone in back.

Although he felt guilty about snapping at his friend, Peter was grateful for the solitude it allowed him. Once they started moving, the hum of the road was enough to block out the sound of him blowing his nose and he prepared himself to rally once back in the hospital.

It was a relatively slow day and Peter managed to sneak into the break room for a cup of tea without being spotted. After pulling the mug from the microwave, he leaned forward and inhaled the smell of hot chamomile. It broke up his congestion wonderfully.

He balanced the steaming cup while searching for a place to be alone. Heading toward the rec room he was relieved to see it empty and took a seat on the piano bench. Before he was situated his cell phone began to vibrate and he started, spilling a drop of the scalding liquid on his wrist and cursed. He put the cup down and pulled out the phone. It was a text message from Claire.

"Hey Pete, sry I couldn't call but I'm in class all pm. I'll prolly call later, just didn't want you to think I 4got. Happy Birthday!!!!"

He smiled but then jumped at the suddenness of a voice behind him. "It's your birthday?"

Peter turned to see Emma looked pleased and surprised behind him. He blushed and nodded.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Peter looked sheepishly at the ground. "There's been so much going on, I actually kind of forgot."

Emma raised her eyebrows. "You forgot your own birthday?" she laughed. "Well then I'm going to assume you had no plans and I'm taking you for dinner after your shift."

Peter rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. "That's really nice of you Emma, but I'm actually working a double shift today."

"On your birthday?" her tone was disapproving.

Peter took an opportunity to turn away, as if to look at the clock, and coughed subtly into the back of his wrist. He was glad, for once, that Emma couldn't hear the rattling in his lungs. She did notice the tensing in his shoulders, however, and her face creased with concern. She chose, for now, to allow him his coveted discretion and changed the subject.

"Who was the text from?" she asked, indicating his phone.

Peter looked down at the cell and smiled fondly. "My niece, Claire."

"Is she?" Emma fumbled for words, "like us?"

Peter nodded, "She's a healer. Well, not like I'm a healer. She's just invincible."

"'Just invincible'?" Emma narrowed her eyes.

Peter laughed and tears sprang to his eyes as he struggled not to cough. "Fair enough. I actually didn't know about her until this whole powers thing came up. She's my brother's kid but she was adopted by this family in Texas."

"How did you find her?" Emma asked, intrigued.

Peter smiled, "It's a really long story. Save the cheerleader, save the world."

Emma looked puzzled and Peter recognized the familiar frustration in her eyes. She thought she had misunderstood his lips. Before he could explain his breath hitched and he leaned away from her, bending at the waist and sneezing into his sleeve.

"Bless you," she said, trying to keep the worry out of her eyes.

"Thank you," Peter sniffled, wondering how much his nose would have to twitch before she would be aware of that one. "Anyway the cheerleader thing pretty much boiled down to Claire being in trouble and a bunch of us trying to save her. Someday I'll tell you the whole story."

Emma remembered the way he had doted on the teenaged patient the past days. "She means a lot to you?"

"Honestly, she's probably the best thing that's come out of this whole deal."

Emma nodded, understanding. Her mind flashed briefly to her nephew and how much he had meant to her. She was jerked from thought when Peter stood suddenly and started to walk away.

"Peter?" she asked, rising after him.

His steps slowed but he didn't turn around. She saw his hands raise and he abruptly pitched forwards, three times in succession, "Hithcew! HI-tchew! Hi-cheew!"

She reached forward to rest a hand on his strong shoulder and he held up a hand in warning. With the slight turn she was able to see his eyes, red and watering, and his mouth, half-open with expectation.

"Hih- hi- hitchew!" This time he nearly fell forward and Emma held out an arm to support him. He sighed with relief and stepped away from her grasp.

"That's quite a powerful sneeze you've got there," she commented eyeing him.

"I'm actually dizzy," he said with a weak chuckle. "Thanks for catching me."

"I thought you didn't get sick."

"I'm not sick."

Emma nodded with fake sincerity. "My mistake."

If she hadn't seen the red light blinking on his beeper, she would have thought had had faked the page. He was clearly embarrassed and Emma struggled to walk the fine line between make Peter uncomfortable and making his feel better.

"Well, I've gotta run," he said, showing her the pager. He darted for the door.

"Hey Peter," she called out, making him stop in his tracks. He turned slowly, ready for a lecture.

"Happy Birthday."

A slow grin warmed his handsome face and he nodded genially at her before taking his leave.

********

Later that afternoon Emma was heading past the cafeteria when she spotted Peter. He sat alone at a long row of benches, reading a medical text. Before him was a box of Kleenex and several used tissues littered the space in front of him. He held another one hand and absently wiped his nose while following along in the book with the other.

Once he flipped the book over and snatched for a new tissue, which he held with both hands in front of his face. He waited for the impending sneeze with the fatigue of someone who has been through this a lot lately. After a lengthy period of catching breaths and frustrating sniffles, Peter clapped the tissue to his face with both hands and sneezed mightily.

Emma was shocked to see the jagged edges of light emitted from Peter as he bent into a second and third sneeze. Her power had never registered human voices and she wondered if it were evolving. This was something she would normally share immediately with her new friend. Before she had stepped into the room, though, she took a final look at the fading sparks of color. They were a hot red; not the wispy, beautiful lights to which she had become so accustomed. These were harsh and hurt her eyes to see. She watched as Peter blew his nose into the soggy tissue and pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. His eyes squinted as if with a headache.

Maybe her power wasn't getting stronger. Maybe she had just never seen so much sound come from a human before. And there was pain around him. Emma could see it more clearly than she would have ever heard the hoarseness and fatigue in his voice. And on his birthday too. Emma felt a wave of pity wash through her that made her almost weak in the knees. She lingered at the door, struggling over whether to approach or leave him to suffer in peace.

When she saw him start coughing and the serrated white flashes this produced, she stepped back from the room. Resolve overtook her, along with a flash of brilliance and she headed down the hall to execute her plan.

"Emma, what is this?" Peter grumbled as she led him down the hall. He forgot that, unless looking right at him, she was unaware of his protests but imagined they would go unheeded either way.

She stopped abruptly at a door and he nearly ran into her.

"This is your birthday present," she said, excitedly.

"I'm supposed to be working," he insisted, trying to look stern.

"I know, I know." Before he saw what was happening she had reached towards his waist and snatched at his pager. "This is just for between calls."

He tried to snatch the beeper back but she pulled it away. "You can have this back when I know you're going to keep an open mind."

"Okay, fine."

She smiled and pushed the door open. It was a patient's room, one that was rarely used and had mostly out-of-date equipment. Emma, however, had bedazzled it. Peter stepped through the doorway and looked around in wonder.

She had spent the last hour filling the room with balloons and festooning it with colorful crepe paper, stolen from the children's wing. Peter let out a low whistle.

"Emma, this is intense."

"Oh this is nothing," she led him over to the bed which had been made up with fresh hospital sheets. At the foot was a folded quilt, clearly brought from home. "Better than the itchy hospital blankets," she said pointing to it. "Now sit."

He leaned into the bed, feeling the relief of sitting wash over him. She leaned over and pulled his feet onto the bed, knocking him back a little. He fell into the pillow and blushed. She rooted around for a moment in a large carpet back hanging over the chair.

"I've got a whole selection of videos for you to watch, can you believe this room doesn't even have a DVD player. There's a thermos of chicken soup and one of tea…"

"Emma," Peter protested weakly.

"This is the most isolated room in the whole building so you can stay here all afternoon and no one will bother you."

"Emma."

"I've reserved it for the rest of the day. I checked in a Jane Doe. Fortunately I've got enough of a hand in paperwork that they probably won't even notice you're not a real patient…"

Peter leaned out and grasped her wrist, forcing Emma to look at him. "This really isn't necessary," he croaked.

Emma stood up and looked severely into his eyes. There was no trace of a smile on her lips as she looked at him with a mixture of compassion and gravity.

"You need to cut that out. You do so much around here, you save so many people, you saved me," her voice caught and she looked away for a moment. "I can't stand to see you running yourself into the ground like this. You deserve a sick day and you deserve a birthday. Now…"

She opened a cooler at the foot of the bed and pulled out a small cardboard box. From it she extracted a chocolate cupcake, covered in sprinkles, with a single candle. While she rummaged around for a lighter Peter felt tears rush to his eyes and quickly brushed them away. He watched her golden hair bounce as she scrambled around, finally and triumphantly producing a pack of matches. While he held the cupcake she lit the candle and stepped back.

"Now make a wish," she said grinning.

"I- uh.. heh," with no warning his head snapped forward and he sneezed directly onto the cupcake extinguishing the flame with a loud, "HA-Shew!"

Emma could hardly stop laughing.


End file.
